


You're Kinda Cute When You're Bumbling

by TMcGeeSDCA



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Complete, M/M, Male Slash, Romance, Sleepy Hollow - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-03
Updated: 2013-10-03
Packaged: 2017-12-28 08:14:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/989782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TMcGeeSDCA/pseuds/TMcGeeSDCA
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sleepy Hollow: An Irving/Ichabod Romance Short<br/>Word Count: ~3,000<br/>Chapters: 1/1<br/>Warnings:  Adorable Ichabod awkwardness, Captain Irving Swagger, Male/Male romance (If it’s not your thing, move along), Dominant!Irving (Mild/inferred), Creepy Graveyards, Horrible Timing, Not BETA’d (Errors are my own, and I’m sure they exist)</p><p>Created in response to Orlando Jones' repeated requests for SlashFic of his character, Captain Irving.  I blame him for this.</p><p>EDIT 1-27-2014:  Sorry for anyone that wanted more of this story, but my muse for this pairing has left.  I just cannot see this now with everything that has happened in the actual show.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're Kinda Cute When You're Bumbling

“I wish no offense, Captain, but I fail to understand why I must attend to this business of yours while Abbie searches for Miss Jenny.  Surely that takes precedence over looking through old manuscripts in some ancient, mysterious crypt.  If they have been there this long, can they not rest in peace a little longer?”  Ichabod was distressed over the disappearance of Abbie’s sister, Jenny and it showed in the tone of his voice.  His nerves were frazzled, and as Frank turned the patrol car into the old cemetery, his stomach began to betray him as well.  “I do not think it is necessary to point out that I have had quite my fill of burial grounds of late, Captain.  Perhaps, if you were to enlighten me on what it is that so immediately requires my assistance, I should feel more at ease?”  Ichabod chanced a sideways glance at the Captain, an almost smirk gracing his lips.

Captain Irving gripped the steering wheel just a little tighter and breathed in deeply, forcing his voice to remain neutral.  He casually placed the vehicle in park, removed the key from the ignition, and took one more deep breath.  He turned to Ichabod, right arm over the back of his seat, left draped over the steering wheel, his back against the door panel.  “Look Crane.  I think I’ve been more than lenient with all of this”, he waved his right hand in a wide sweeping gesture, “so far.  By all rights, you should be locked up right now.”

Ichabod was taken aback by the notion.  “I... I…”

Captain Irving’s eyes narrowed in warning.  He placed the index finger of his right hand to his lips as he shook his head slowly.  “Not another word Crane.  You _are_ gonna hear me out on this.”  He draped his arm over the seat again and relaxed back against the door.  “I am willing to suspend belief and give you the benefit of the doubt...”

Ichabod once more began to speak.  “I thank you...”

The Captain raised his brows and tilted his head, giving Ichabod a very serious ‘don’t make me slap you’ look.  Crane wisely withdrew his commentary and remained silent.

Irving lowered his head and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his index finger and thumb.  After a moment, he regarded Ichabod with a smile, and it almost didn’t look forced.  “If you are who you say you are, and all of this is really happening, then I need you to help me, ok?  I _am_ in charge of this investigation.”  He righted himself in his seat and opened the door.  Ichabod exited after him.  The Captain looked at Ichabod from over the roof of the car.  “May wanna keep that in mind next time you feel like sneaking around behind my back.”

Ichabod’s nerves were no less frazzled by the recent exchange with the Captain.  “I… of course Captain.  Shall we proceed?” 

The Captain swung the car door shut firmly.

Ichabod followed suit, however, his seat belt had not retracted and the door simply bounced off the large metal belt buckle.  He tried again, and once more the door bounced back.  He pushed against the door with both hands, no luck.  He tried to bump it with his hip as he had seen Abbie do in the past, giving the door a stern look from over his shoulder.  It remained ajar.  With a huff of air, Ichabod dragged his hand through his hair and regarded the door with frustration. “Mine appears to be broken.”

Frank watched Ichabod’s attempts with open amusement.  He casually walked around the car, grabbed Ichabod by the hips and steering him to lean against the front fender.  “Abbie’s right, you _can_ be a little adorable when you’re frustrated.”  The smile the Captain gave Ichabod now was decidedly less formal and lacked any trace of hostility.

Ichabod’s face and neck reddened immediately.  His smirk returned and his eyes lit with a mischievous glint.  “I shall endeavor to remember that my bumbling can be used as a means to court others in this period.  Most”, Ichabod slowly looked down to regard the Captain’s hands still holding his hips, “enlightening, I assure you.”

“Mhm.”  Frank released Ichabod, righted the seat belt and closed the door.  He gave the other man one more glance as he walked past him toward the decrepit and forbidding graveyard.

Captain Irving took the lead as they searched.  He began checking the names on the largest of the family crypts against a scrap of age-worn leather he had in his hand.  Ichabod followed closely, desperately trying to get a better look at the object, but Irving always turned in such a manner as to keep it from the lanky man’s view.  After checking several crypts, and pulling a very unnerved Ichabod from no less than three small sink holes, the Captain put the scrap back into his pocket. 

He began dragging his hands over the brick of the doorframe.  His fingertips found a gap in the mortar.  “Think this is it.”  He pulled his hand back sharply and shook it.  A shiver ran down his spine as he reached back to the frame.  “Damned spiders.  Well, here it goes.”  Irving slid his fingers into the space and shuddered as they passed through thick webbing and God only knows what else.  There was a click followed by a series of whirring gears and the stone doors began opening with a horrible scraping noise.  Both men covered their ears until it stopped, looking to the cemetery to see if they had drawn attention to themselves. 

Seeing nothing untoward didn’t exactly set Ichabod at ease.  “Are you planning on enlightening me as to our purpose here at any time in near future, my good Captain?”

Frank stepped aside and waved Ichabod to enter before him.  He handed the other man a flashlight.  “I need you to see if there’s anything in here you remember.  Anything at all that could shed some light on what we’re dealing with here.”

Ichabod’s demeanor became much more studious and serious.  He took the flashlight, nodded formally to the Captain with a slight bow, and then turned to face the dank, dark space before him.  “Mind the rear then.”

Frank tilted his head to the side as he watched Ichabod crouch his lanky frame to move forward.  “Don’t worry, that’s not gonna be a problem.”  The other man continued on, oblivious to the innuendo.

Ichabod was mindful of the various roots impeding their progress.  At one juncture, the roof extended upwards in a tight, chimney like tunnel.  Crane crouched and searched the roots above him, genuine apprehension coloring his expression.

Frank lowered his brows and laid a hand on his sidearm, flicking the catch on his holster open.  “What is it?”

Ichabod peered into the tangled space above him a moment more before continuing forward.  “One can never be too careful.  I have been forced to take this truth to heart in the most disconcerting manner possible.”

Frank secured his firearm once more and they continued their search.

Nearly thirty minutes had passed as they sank lower and lower into the crypt's depths with nothing of note appearing.  When they reached the end of the old stone stairs, they were confronted by a large, iron clad door.  The lock, once cleared of ages of dust and debris, seemed not to be damaged by the ravages of time.

Frank studied the intricate indentation on the face of the lock’s mechanism and turned to Crane.  “I’m gonna need that bible of yours.”

Ichabod’s right brow rose as he looked down at the Captain with equal parts interest and mistrust.

Frank sighed heavily, turned slightly in his squatted position and regarded Ichabod with a worrying level of concern.  “You _did_ bring the bible, right?”

Crane hesitated a moment longer, measuring the Captain.  His features softened and he produced the bible that had been tucked into the deep pocket of his coat.  “Of course, my good Captain.  I was instructed by your very person to do so, was I not?”  He handed the bible to Frank and crouched beside the other man.

Irving shook his head and rolled his eyes.  He lifted the cover of the bible to compare it to the lock and smiled broadly.  “Yep, this is it.”  He set the bible down and produced a small pocket knife.  As he brought the point of it towards the medallion in the center of the bible, he jumped at Ichabod’s sharp intake of breath.

“You cannot mean to deface such a historically significant artifact, Captain!”  Crane tried a grab for the tomb but was too slow.

“Oh no you don’t.  And yes, that’s exactly what I plan to do.”  He guarded the book while he worked the medallion free from the old leather of the cover.  His hand trembled slightly as he positioned the ornate metal object just over the lock.  “Here goes nothing.”

Before he could insert the medallion, the lock took it from his fingertips.  Sparkling, blue-white light shimmered at the edges of their meeting.  Both men stepped back sharply, mouths agape in awe.  Another series of clicks and whirring gears sounded before the door opened to reveal a small room.  Torches lit of their own accord on each wall.  The room was no more than fifteen feet wide in both directions and was furnished in the Revolutionary War era fashion.  Two ornate desks, facing one another, with matching arm chairs took up most of the center of the room.  Each wall was lined with bookcases filled to capacity with scrolls, tombs, artifacts and various other bric-a-brac.

The two men were so enthralled with the space that they didn’t notice the door closing behind them.  Frank heard it first.  “No…”  He raced for it and found no interior handle to hold it open.  His hands scrambled for purchase as the door continued on its path unhindered.  “No no no no no… son of a…”  The door closed to the sound of more clicks and whirring gears.

Ichabod rushed to the door and fell to his knees to inspect the lock.  “It is the same here as the other side.  All we need do is insert the medallion again to free ourselves.  No need to panic.  May I have the medallion please?”  Crane reached out behind him, still inspecting the lock.  When he felt nothing in his hand moments later, he turned to the Captain.  “You _did_ remember to remove it again, did you not?”

Frank crossed his arms over his chest, his brows raised high.  “No.”

Ichabod rose to his feet and began pacing on his long, gangly legs.  Every once in a while, he turned sharply towards Frank, raised a finger, shook his head and continued on with his frantic pacing.  Frank just stood there, tracking the other man with his eyes; back and forth, back and forth.

“Abbie _does_ know where we are, Crane.”  Frank tried his radio, but was met with nothing but static.  He sighed, exasperated, and let his head fall back and his eyes close.  “Perfect.”

Ichabod plopped down in one of the side chairs amidst a cloud of dust.  He tried desperately not to notice and appear as casual as possible, but he was soon coughing rather strenuously.

Frank broke into an uneasy laughter as he took the other chair, being careful when he sat in it not to suffer the same experience.  “When we don’t check in, she’ll come for us.  It’s that simple.  You don’t think I’ve come this far without learning how to cover my ass, do you?”

Ichabod finished dusting off his clothes and gave Frank the most confused of expressions.  “Wait, what?  Cover your… how is that applicable to our current situation?”

“It’s an _expression_ Crane.  It means making sure you have a way out no matter what, a solution for any possible outcome, that kinda thing.  Got it?”

“Ah, I see.  How very… creative.”  _Annnd… now I am lost in thoughts of your posterior.  Perfect._ Crane blushed and quickly brought a random book up to his face to hide it.

Frank hadn’t missed it.   He gave the book’s binding a sly, knowing smile before he stood and removed his suit coat.  He placed it over the back of the chair and moved to one of the bookcases, his back to the other man.

Ichabod snuck a look at the Captain when he heard him move away, peeking out from the side of the open book.  He swallowed the lump that had made its way into his throat.  _They certainly take their tailoring rather seriously here._

“Crane, wanna help me with this?”  Frank didn’t turn around.

Ichabod fumbled the book in his hands and it landed on the desk loudly.  This time Frank did turn around.

“Find something interesting?”  Another sly smile.

“Hmm?  I… well… no.”  Crane cleared his throat and tried for debonair and confident.  “Not presently, but the room does hold some measure of promise.”  Ichabod rose and removed his coat as well.  Very carefully folding it and hanging it over the arm of the chair.  He smoothed his hands over the heavy fabric covering his thighs to remove the sweat that had begun to form on his palms.  “Right, shall we get to it then?”  He turned briskly and began an inventory of the shelves in front of him.

Frank took in the sight for a moment before returning to his work as well.

Several hours passed with the two men scouring the shelves for anything of note.  The two desks had an impressive collection piling up; anything they had found that could be of use.  Frank took every opportunity he was presented with to foster a physical connection with the other man.  Each touch, no matter how slight, earned him some level of reaction; a nervous laugh, a shy downward glance or a sweetly shy smile.  He placed his hand on the small of Ichabod’s back when they reviewed an item together.  He guided Ichabod by the hips when he needed to get past him.

Ichabod, for his part, had begun to prattle on about anything and everything.  He was currently examining a scroll of some sort.  “Oh, this is interesting. Do you see here?  This depicts the very state of the cave I awoke in.”

Frank pressed against Ichabod’s back and reviewed the document from over the other man’s shoulder, his left hand on Ichabod’s waist.  “You realize that’s not a very pleasant thought, right?”  His voice carried a breath with it that ghosted over Crane’s ear and he was rewarded with the smallest of whimpers and a shiver.

Ichabod felt himself sway backwards against Frank and quickly righted his stance.  He began talking in earnest; grasping hold of any thought that presented itself with enough clarity to make it useful.

“Ichabod...”  More babbling.  Frank’s tone became sterner.  “Ichabod.”

“Yes?”  Crane only sounded a little helpless.

Frank turned Ichabod to face him and backed him up until he was pinned to the large bookcase.  He cupped the bristly cheek of the other man and ran his thumb over his lips.

“Are you entirely certain this is safe?  Could the book case not become unstable and…”

The Captain leaned in and brushed his lips over the still talking scholar's.  He nibbled a path along his sharp jaw line to the sensitive juncture of ear and jaw, pressed his tongue to it before moving to Ichabod’s ear.  “Ichabod.  Stop.  Talking.”

“Mhmmm…”  Crane’s breathing had become shallow and his heart raced.  He hadn’t time enough to stifle a low moan as Frank’s thigh pushed between his legs.  His hips betrayed him and pressed forward against that considerable muscle.  Another moan, this one more throaty and laced with need.

“Good boy.”  Frank nibbled on Ichabod’s lips before sucking the lower between his own.  His hands came to rest on the other man’s hips, his thumbs dipping below the waistband to tease at the dips there.  He let his intentions be known with a swipe of his tongue against Ichabod’s slowly opening mouth.

Ichabod’s head swam, his eyes closed and he opened willingly to the Captain.  He took everything that was offered and gave all that was asked in return.  Surely Frank could feel his enthusiasm for their current position.

Frank stepped back one step, his right hand holding Ichabod against the bookcase.  “Stay.”  Ichabod nodded slowly, eyelids heavy.  Frank reached out and began untying the laces of Ichabod’s shirt.  “Been wanting to do this for a while now.  The look suits you.”

Crane smiled, though it was plain to see he was still considerably nervous.

They heard a clamoring outside.  And then Abbie’s voice, loud and clear.  “Captain?!  Crane?!  Are you in there?  Oh, please God let them be in there.”

“Told you.  We’re here Officer Mills.”  _Great timing Officer._ He leaned in close and whispered in Ichabod’s ear, “We are going to my place and then I’m going to take everything you own to the cleaners.  Understood?”

“Y… yes.  Wait, I have nothing else to wear?”

“Exactly.”  Frank moved to the door and raised his voice so Abbie could hear him, “Try the medallion Officer Mills.  It should unlock the door.” 

He returned his gaze to Ichabod who was donning his jacket with haste.  “You may want to button that up.”


End file.
